


just another drunken idiot

by medusacascade22



Category: perri's dumb life of dumbness
Genre: DRUNK!FIC, Gen, M/M, Not My Fault, go away, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusacascade22/pseuds/medusacascade22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which patrick kane gets super shit-faced and then gets rescued by this girl named craze and her amazing life coaching powers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just another drunken idiot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punkpixieprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkpixieprince/gifts), [nicoleh262](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicoleh262/gifts).



> this is not my fault.  
> this is patrick kane's fault for getting shit-faced in madison, wisconsin of all damn places.  
> this is craze's fault because of her college choices.  
> this is nicole's fault because she suggested drunk!kaner/craze.  
> i claim no responsibility for anything that this is so just shut up.
> 
> barely edited, cause i kind of did this instead of my trig homework. deal with it.  
> warning for accidental kidnapping?  
> don't try this at home, kids, you'll probably end up dead or in jail, depending which role you choose.

 

 

Patrick Kane really hates his friends.

Well, friends is kind of a loose term, because people who hang out with him just to brag and say that they drank with Patrick Kane and then leave his sorry ass outside the bar with no clue where he is aren’t exactly the most quality friends in the world.

That’s how he ends up staggering down the sidewalk, actually, with no clue where he is or where he can go. He’s about to pull out his phone and call his fucking mom or something because seriously what else is he supposed to do when he knocks right into something hard.

“Whoa, fuck,” The something says. Patrick blinks hard, focusing on the face of a small girl wearing glasses and a sweatshirt that says “University of Wisconsin: Madison” in blurry letters. It might be Patrick that’s blurry, not the shirt, but he’s not totally sure.

“You okay?” She asks, concern furrowing in her brow.

“Oh, uh, yeah, sorry,” Patrick slurs. His head droops down in shame of practically running over a sweet little girl in his drunken haze, and he notices a book on the ground, that he knows he must have knocked from her arms in the collision. Patrick bends down to pick it up, because he’s not a total asshole thank you very much.

He’s pretty wobbly on his way back up, but he makes it without falling or vomiting or dying, so he counts it as a success. The girl is still staring at him in this really maternal way as he hands the book to her. It’s starting to freak him out a little.

“You’re pretty messed up, aren’t you?” She says. Patrick nods slowly as to not worsen the swimming in his head. “Why isn’t anyone with you to take care of you?”

And then Patrick loses it.

“BECAUSE I’M A FUCK UP AND EVERYONE HATES ME!” Patrick wails. He feels wetness on his cheeks and knows he’s crying but hell, he’s already this far in, might as well just ride it out.

“Oh sweetheart,” The girls says, biting her lip nervously, clearly at a loss for what to do. “I’m sure that _everyone_ doesn’t hate you,” She consoles, gently guiding him to sit on the curb so he doesn’t fall over or something and hurt himself.

“Not everyone,” Patrick sniffles. “But everyone that _matters._ Jonny hates me because I’m a stupid idiot and I just want him to love me because I love him a lot and he’s my best friend but I fucked everything up and everything sucks.” He finishes, burying his tear-streaked face into the girl’s neck.

“Oh, uh, okay, then…” She stammers, patting awkwardly at the back of his head. “Based on the fact that you’re wandering the streets of Madison alone at two in the morning, I’d say you have nowhere to go and no one to call to help you.” Patrick nods into her neck, ticking her chin with his curls.

“Alright, then I guess you’re my problem now. This is the last time I stay at the library past closing.” She sighs a little, and Patrick feels kind of bad, but then she’s flagging down a cab and pushing him into the backseat.

Patrick is trying his hardest to remember not to get into a fight with the driver because she’s really a nice girl and he doesn’t want to trouble her any further when he realizes that he doesn’t even know his savior’s name.

“Who are you?” He mumbles, hardly loud enough for her to hear from the front seat.

“Craze,” she tells him.

“Craze,” Patrick whispers back. His head drops down onto the leather seat, falling asleep to the sound of the cab’s tires rolling over the pavement.

-

The next thing Patrick knows, he’s wrapped in something soft and warm and amazing, but he can’t enjoy it because of the seven million rhinoceroses that insist on stomping around on the inside of his head. He groans, hoping to scare them away, and hears a few giggles in response. Patrick groans again because seriously, he is too hung over to deal with this shit right now.

But he really needs to find some caffeine and pain medicine and the giggles are probably an obstacle between him and that, so he forces an eye open.

“Oh my god, shut up or get out. He’s not here for you to watch him sleep like creepers.” Patrick hears a familiar voice say, followed by a few muffled arguments that are then shushed.

Patrick wrestles with his wrappings, hoping to find sleep or death. Neither come to him, only the assumption that he is in a bed that is not his. He can feel the button of his jeans digging into his skin though, so he’s clothed, which is _probably_ a good sign.

“Awake, sunshine?” The voice says, closer this time, so Patrick decides now is as good a time as any to get his eyes all the way open.

“Craze!” He says when he does open them, half relieved that he hasn’t been kidnapped by a madman and is chained to the floor in some weird torture dungeon and half impressed that he remembers her name.

Well, she could still be a lunatic, but so far she’s been pretty chill, and it’s not like Patrick really has any other option at the moment, so he decides to just assume she’s not, in fact, a lunatic.

“That’s me,” She says, placing a cup of something warm in his hand and dropping a few pills on the table next to the bed.

Patrick wraps his fingers around the cup, inhaling the rich scent of coffee, and he feels  a little better already. He sips it slowly until he can open his eyes without wanting to bore them out with his own fingernails.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” He manages, smiling over the lip of the mug at Craze, who’s perched on the edge of the bed.

“Oh, it was nothing,” Craze says, waving a hand dismissively at him.

“No, it wasn’t. If not for you, I would be suffocating on my own vomit in some alley. I don’t actually know where I am right now, but this is a hell of a lot better than that.” Patrick insists.

“You’re in my dorm room,” Craze says. “My roommate’s bed, really. She sneaks off to the boys’ dorm every night to see her boyfriend anyway, so it’s not like she’s using it.”

“Oh, erm, cool,” Patrick says, looking down at the frilly pink quilt draped over his wrinkled and grungy t-shirt. He feels awful all of a sudden, and moves to get the fuck out before he can be more of an obnoxious nuisance to this poor sweet girl.

“Don’t even think about it,” Craze rolls her eyes. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m sure you won’t immediately collapse and die. I don’t need that on my conscience, Patrick.”

“But…” Patrick starts to protest. “Wait, how do you know my name?”

“I checked your wallet.” Craze shrugs. Patrick opens his mouth, ready to go off on how creepy that is and the invasion of privacy but before he can, (or realize that hey, this girl rescued him, maybe he shouldn’t yell at her) she cuts in.

“It was either me or them,” She says, jerking a thumb towards the gaggle of girls crowded in the doorway and the hall just outside it. Probably the source of the earlier giggles, Patrick thinks. “Speaking of which, get out!” Craze tells them. A few try to protest, but Craze simply gets up and shuts the door in the faces.

“There, much better. Apparently it’s a scandal for me to drag some half-unconscious dude into my room in the middle of the night, but no one needs an audience for a hangover.” She returns to her place at the edge of the bed. Patrick starts to thank her _again,_ but she waves it off. “So tell me about this Jonny person.”

Patrick just about chokes on his mouthful of coffee. “Um, what?”

“Obviously he’s something pretty important, since he’s the reason you were so drunk off your ass last night that you were willing to follow any random stranger home simply because they offered. So come on, you’ve trusted me thus far, spill it.”

Patrick stares down into his cup for a while, but finally figures, that hell, she’s right, and deserves to know why exactly her night and following morning was spent caring for some drunken idiot she’d never met before.

“Jonny is… Jonny is my best friend.” Patrick starts.

“Yeah, you told me that last night.” Craze interrupts, rolling her eyes.

“Do you want me to talk or what?” Patrick snaps at her. She laughs a little and mimes zipping her lips closed.

“Thank you. As I was saying, Jonny… he really is my best friend. He means more than anything in the world to me and I constantly let him down because I’m an idio, but I don’t want to let him down, I want him to be proud of me, but…” Patrick takes a deep breath, cutting off the words he isn’t even thinking about before they come out because seriously, he’s way too hung-over for all of these feelings.

Patrick bites his lip and looks up at Craze, who is looking at him like he’s this lost and pathetic little puppy that she just has to fix. It’s the kind of look his mom used to give him when he was little and laid up in is bed with the flu on a Saturday and couldn’t go play street hockey with his friends.

Craze mimes zipping her lips again but nudges his knee with hers through the quilt, silently urging him to go on.

“But… he hates it when I drink like I did last night, which I kind of do all the time. He won’t talk to me for days after he finds out. But the thing is, drinking is the only way I can handle knowing that I’m doomed to be in love with my best friend forever when he doesn’t feel the same way about me.” Patrick finishes with a sigh.

Craze mimes unzipping her lips, and raises her eyebrows, asking for permission. Patrick nods for her to go ahead.

“Do you _know_ he doesn’t feel the same way about you?” Craze asks.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve never asked him, but, Jonny isn’t gay, and he doesn’t, I mean, he isn’t…” Patrick stammers, struggling to capture a thought that can even create a coherent sentence.

“So let me get this straight. You’re in love with your best friend, who hates it when you drink, and whose feelings you don’t actually know for sure, but you drink anyway and drive him away instead of just talking to him?”

“That’s about the size of it.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot.” Craze yells. Patrick clutches his ears, the noise bouncing around his head, feeling like it leaves bruises wherever it hits. “Just fucking talk to him! Maybe he loves you back! God, this is why boys cannot survive alone in this world. You’re too fucking thick to see what’s right in front of you!”

“But what if he doesn’t love me?” Patrick yells back, though considerably quieter, because seriously, hangovers suck. “Then what? Then what the fuck do I do?”

“Then you move on with your life and stop drinking yourself into a coma and become the productive member of society that you probably once were for Jonny to have ever wanted to be your friend in the first place.”

“What if I tell him and he hates me?” Patrick asks, voice small and vulnerable now.

“If he hates you, then he’s an asshole and you should never have been friends with him in the first place.”

“Don’t say that!” Patrick says, clearly offended. “Jonny is a great guy! Okay, sometimes he’s an asshole, but it comes from a place of compassion, at least I hope.”

“Then _obviously_ he’s not going to hate you.” Craze rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen enough romantic comedies to know that he probably loves you back anyway.”

Patrick starts to tell her that her name fits her perfectly because she’s absolutely off-her-ass-crazy if she thinks that, but Craze just ushers him off to the shower because apparently showing up at Jonny’s house in yesterday’s clothes and reeking of booze and college girls will not help his confession of love.

-

A few years later, Craze gets an invitation in the mail.

_“Bryan and Andrée Toews invite you to celebrate the matrimony of their son,_

_Mr. Jonathan Bryan Toews to Mr. Patrick Timothy Kane Jr.”_

At the bottom of the page in small lettering that someone would only bother to squint and read if they really wanted to reads, “Thank you, Craze. For everything.”

 

 

~fin

 


End file.
